


A Day in the Life

by Mendeia



Series: What Beyond (The Temple Steps Alight) [8]
Category: The Real Adventures of Jonny Quest, The Sentinel
Genre: Crossover, Gen, Oneshot, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-13
Updated: 2015-09-13
Packaged: 2018-04-20 11:54:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4786406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mendeia/pseuds/Mendeia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A day at SELF from dawn to dusk, and the many people who find a home there.  </p>
<p>Also known as: Life At SELF Is Never Boring For Anybody Even Without A World-Ending Crisis</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Day in the Life

**Author's Note:**

> This is a nice long look at a lot of our characters and how they settle into the first winter at SELF with a full house of Sentinels. Unlike most of my oneshots which I write all in one sitting, this took me several days to piece together. Lots of different individuals needed some spotlight time!
> 
> Plus, I'm establishing some important groundwork for Arc 4. And, as usual, developing my own take on Sentinels and Guides and their dynamics.
> 
> Enjoy!

Blair's Saturday started all too early at the airport. In addition to the holiday traffic clogging the roads, even the little private airfield the Quests tended to prefer for the Dragonfly was busy. Blair huddled down in his coat and shivered.

"It could be worse," Jim told him with only a hint of a smile.

"Oh yeah?"

"It could be snowing."

Blair grumbled incoherently for a moment before sighing. "Actually, I kind of hope it does."

Jim looked at his I-hate-cold-more-than-anything-including-death partner. "Really?"

"Sure," Blair shrugged. "A white Christmas would mean a lot to the Sentinels who are used to that sort of thing. And I think the new arrivals who've never seen one before would like it, too."

Jim just shook his head. "Just make sure you're stocked up on coats and hot coffee, all right?"

"Not a problem, man." Then his head perked up. "Feel that?"

Jim smiled a little grimly. "Yep. Looks like a live one, Chief. You gonna go first?"

"Don't I usually?" Blair smiled, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. As he focused himself on the next few moments, he felt a buzz of power in the air, his Guide nature growing stronger as he drew it forth. A tiny trickle between the folds of awareness told him that somewhere – not that it mattered where – Hadji was probably conscious of the moment. Even more than half a year and there were certain ways in which they were still connected. But it was still fading, and it didn't bother either of them.

Particularly when it was useful. As now, when Hadji's calm was virtually contagious and Blair found himself relaxing.

_Showtime_ , Blair thought to himself as the group appeared. Benton was in front, leading the eight new Sentinels through the customs checkpoint which, today, was manned by agents of the DHS. Doctor Quest looked exhausted and Blair didn't blame him. It was one thing for a group of Sentinels to defect on their own and arrange to arrive in Cascade or else to jump on the plane during a mass rescue. It was something else entirely to be contacted by a group desperate to escape the dictatorship of Belarus and have to assist in smuggling them out of the country. It had not been easy, and only the Quest name and reputation, and some very clever deal-making by other forces allied to SELF including the DHS, had gotten them out of the country at all.

Beside Benton walked a stately woman, her hair tightly braided in an elaborate plait. Blair had already spoken with her as well as the others while they had been on-board the Dragonfly, but it was different to see the Sentinel who had led her seven comrades to safety in person. Galina Yankova was tall and imposing, and even after three hellish days looked ready for a fight. A step in front of her was her spirit animal, a husky wild boar.

Blair breathed again, drawing more of Hadji's calm to himself before he stepped forward.

"Welcome," he said with a smile. "I am Doctor Blair Sandburg." He held out his hands and waited.

Galina examined him with sharp brown eyes which softened as her senses roved over the Guide. The ice in her expression thawed a bit and she replied in accented English. "It is good to meet you after all we have heard of your miracles, Professor Guide."

Blair shot a slightly annoyed look to Race, who had clearly shared the title or term of endearment or whatever it was that Dmitri and Ivan had started with the new Sentinels. Race shrugged tiredly before taking Benton by the arm and leading him away – the pair had done their part and now would retreat to get some rest and let the remaining work unfold on its own.

Before he could cross the distance between them, Blair sensed more than heard the growl from behind him as Jim stalked forward and interposed himself. "Jim Ellison," he grated.

Galina stopped and regarded him coldly. Blair was pretty sure anybody with ears should be able to hear the aggressive noises Jim's jaguar was making, and the boar was snarling right back. As a peacemaker by nature, Blair longed to ease the way, but he had learned that Sentinels tended to make their own rules about when they wanted peace made. And in this case, interference would just stretch out something that had to happen anyway.

Jim crossed his arms and his jaguar _screamed_.

Galina swore quietly and looked away.

Almost at once, Jim relaxed and stepped back, permitting Blair to move towards the Sentinel. _Stupid posturing hyper-protective throwbacks_ , Blair thought darkly. But he just shook his head and resumed smiling at the newest members of SELF.

"I'm sure you're exhausted, so we'll get you to the lodge and get you settled quickly. There will be a lot of people to meet, but they all understand what you've been through. We'll have you cozy in your beds in no time."

Which, in the end, did turn out to be at least mostly true. Still, first Blair was treated to a full Sentinel pecking-order display in the greatroom when the group arrived.

"Can you explain precisely what they are doing?" Hadji asked, sidling up to his fellow Guide.

Blair gestured for Hadji to follow and led the way up the stairs to the third level, which afforded them a view of the whole room. And of course he noticed Jim guarding the stairs as if at any moment an incensed Sentinel would race up there to do...something. _Who only knows_? Blair thought to himself, rolling his eyes. _The fact that Jonny's doing it too doesn't help much. Good thing Kaimi's out with Eric and Lai packing up at the Chancery or I'm sure Ngama would be just as weird_.

"You understand the underlying social dynamics, right?" Blair asked.

Hadji nodded. "Like any hierarchical pack animal, the Sentinels establish and maintain a strict social construct among themselves. Like when gorilla families merge, they must establish a new order and slot in the strange Sentinels against the existing structure."

"Right," Blair nodded, smiling. It was so _nice_ having people like Hadji and Benton around all the time now to discuss these types of things with him! "Well, Jim's the undisputed top dog, and Galina's already acknowledged that. So now it's just a matter of everybody else in the tribe sorting out who fits where."

"In wolf packs, would not such an experience involve a great deal of physical confrontation and dominance displays?" Hadji asked.

"And you _don't_ think that's what's going on down there?" Blair gestured. "Look how they're arranged. Jim's off to one side, 'cause nobody's going to challenge him for his spot at the top. Then you've got sort of a group of the secondary Sentinels, which includes Jonny and Dmitri and Hasna and one or two of the others. Galina's with them right now, and I'm pretty sure she's thinking about hauling off and punching Dmitri if he keeps looking so smug.

"Then we've got the tertiaries, which is Luka and Ngama and Emeline most of the older Sentinels who are strong where it counts. There's three of the Belorussian group and they've already had one fistfight and now they're in a world-class glare-off.

"Everybody else, which means Angie and the younger Sentinels from the original Soviet group and the rescued ones from the Arctic mission, are that big mob down there sorting into even smaller factions along lines even I don't totally get, and the four new ones are trying to navigate it. The only people left not participating are the other Guides and the kids, and we're not even sure yet whether the babies are full or partial Sentinels."

"Do you not think it is strange that there is such a strict hierarchy, but we have failed to name the roles?" Hadji asked.

"What do you mean?"

"If this were the military, we would have a general and a corporal and a captain and such," Hadji said. "In fact, most of the Sentinels are of one military structure or another. Why do they not employ such terms to make all this posturing slightly simpler?"

"Honestly, I think it's because it's not that clear-cut. Other than Jim, the whole thing is pretty fuzzy. Maybe we should start calling him Captain Sentinel or something."

From below, Jim's head snapped around and he levied a glare at his Guide that could melt the paint off a truck. Blair put up his hands in surrender, fighting a grin.

"You just wish not to be alone as 'Professor Guide' anymore," Hadji smiled.

"That too," Blair admitted.

"Looks like things are starting to fit together," Hadji nodded to where the worst churning of different Sentinels had slowed and now they were beginning to introduce themselves to the newcomers and make slightly less hostile gestures.

"That's my cue to go figure out the housing, then," Blair said, and headed off towards the stairs. He went straight to Galina and began speaking quickly, his hands flashing as he described the available options and how the rooms stacked against the complicated pack dynamics that had been determined.

Hadji followed him to the floor of the greatroom, but though he caught Jonny's eye and the wink that meant his brother was pleased with the outcome – which Hadji took to mean Jonny had somehow bested the Sentinel who was easily twice his age and experience – he did not join that part of the discussion. Instead, he headed to where Ivanna had appeared at the other end of the room.

"May I be of any assistance?" he asked politely.

Ivanna smiled at him. "If you have the time now, young eagle, it would do all well to become used to you and your spirit."

Hadji raised an eyebrow but said nothing. However, he did offer the woman an elbow, which she accepted with the grace of a queen.

Together, they moved into the crowd. It seemed every single Sentinel present turned to them to bid them good morning or inquire after their well-being, but Hadji quickly saw what else was occurring – the Sentinels were scenting them, perhaps not even consciously. While the Guides did not exist in the same sort of hierarchy among the Sentinels and operated quite independently, the Sentinels were attuned to them. Each of the new Sentinels regarded them with a mix of confusion and awe – Doctor Quest had reported that these Sentinels had heard rumors of the existence of Guides, but had never encountered one.

When the tribe began glaring at the new Sentinels upon their actually touching a Guide, Ivanna always had the same response ready.

"Now, children," she chided with an air of patient authority, "we are all one family. Play your petty games with one another if you wish, but _we_ shall not participate."

Hadji found it remarkable how Ivan the Terrible could command a room of more than a hundred Sentinels with a slight smile and sheer presence. It reminded him more than anything else of the matriarch of a large family. She may have possessed the influence to command, but she opted rather to encourage the crowd to command themselves.

When they had been noted and touched by all the Sentinels in the larger crowd, Hadji followed Ivanna's subtle urging towards the smaller groups Blair had singled out. Ngama, not often given to indulging his Sentinel territorial imperatives, actually interposed himself between the pair of Guides and the three newcomers until gently pressed aside by Ivanna.

"Thank you for your concern," she told him with genuine warmth. "You are a great honor to our tribe, Sentinel."

Ngama accepted the praise with surprise, and Hadji could see the impact of it in his eyes. For a young man whose very father had turned from him, respect and affection from Ivanna was like food to a starving man. Hadji winked very subtly at Ngama, earning a real smile, and the Sentinel then made introductions to their new friends.

As they approached the last group, Jim floated over as well, taking a hovering position just behind Blair's shoulder.

"Galina, this is Hadji," Blair said brightly as they approached. "He's Jonny's Guide. And this is Ivanna. She's a Guide to us all."

Galina looked sharply at Ivan, not quite sure how to take that introduction.

Ivanna had no doubts. She moved forward to seize Galina's hands in both of her own, releasing Hadji on the way. "Welcome, sister. The watch is shared with us all, and you are safe in our lands."

Galina's face cracked and the relief that leaked through her controlled coolness was intense. "I thank you for your kindness and your welcome."

To the side, Jonny had managed to sneak to his brother and was standing shoulder-to-shoulder with him, leaning very slightly into Hadji's arm as if he could extend his claim on his brother by physically jamming them together.

"And thank you, Sentinel," Galina turned to Dmitri. "You would be within your rights to keep my people apart from your own."

"I would," Dmitri acknowledged with a tip of the head, "but we are one people."

"Are we?"

"Yes we are," Jim said firmly, his solid presence suddenly a lot more noticeable. "We all fit together and not by drawing the wrong kinds of lines between us."

Dmitri smiled at Jim with warmth. "Our Sentinel is wise, is he not?"

Galina's frosty expression thawed again and she smiled with more honesty than she had yet shown. "So it seems."

"Now," Ivan said, still holding onto Galina's hands. "Let us show you where the food awaits you. You all must be exhausted and hungry after your difficult trip. Once you have eaten, we will finish choosing your rooms."

"Hear that, you lot!" Dmitri raised his voice. "Stop pestering our new brothers and sisters and let them eat in peace."

The remaining new Sentinels made their way through the crowd to join the group of the highest ranked Sentinels, and Hadji noted that their faces had, in every case, at last started to soften out of the defensive stress of before. He missed a bit of the conversation as he watched the Sentinels gathering, but whatever was said made Dmitri laugh in his booming way, and they relaxed farther at his obvious comfort.

_A matriarch and a patriarch indeed_ , Hadji thought fondly. _Ivanna and Dmitri may not be the true leaders of the tribe as Jim and Blair are, but that does not stop them from being mother and father to us all. And perhaps because of that, it sets the worried spirits of our newest members at ease. For authority is no longer concentrated, and respect is not synonymous with hierarchy. And kindness begins at every level, enforced not by regulation or rule, but by the good spirits of those who lead_.

As Ivanna and Dmitri began to lead Galina and the others away, Blair started to go after them. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder.

"Where are you going, partner?" Jim asked with a glint in his eye.

"Uh, to do my Guide thing?" Blair quirked an eyebrow. "Why? What should I be doing?"

"Let Ivan handle that. _You_ have a lesson today. Don't think I forgot."

Blair groaned. "Aw, come on. Really?"

"Yup. Move it." Jim's eyes fell on Jonny and Hadji. "You want a refresher?"

As one, they shook their heads. "Thanks, but no," Jonny said. "I don't like guns."

"They do not trouble me, but I believe my time would be better spent on other matters," Hadji answered smoothly.

Jim huffed. "All right. Get out of here. Daryl? You ready?"

Blair turned, not having realized that Daryl and Jessie had arrived after their own whirlwind of a morning back at Rainier. Jessie had stopped to talk to some of the dispersing Sentinels, so Daryl moved straight through the crowd to join Jim and Blair.

He looked up with a steady expression. "I'm ready."

"Good. Ngama? Grab your coat and let's get going."

The shiver that followed Daryl outside and along one of the slick paths had nothing to do with the coldness of the temperature. Marching beside Ngama, he did not look in either direction, keeping himself focused as Blair had taught him. Still, there was something ominous in the sound of the door unlocking.

Once inside, all four men removed their outerwear and Jim opened the cabinet at the other end of the room, handing around ear- and eye-protection. He waited to speak until all three were standing quietly. Even Blair wasn't bouncing for once.

"I know none of you want to have to do this, but you also know why it's important," Jim said. "I hope you'll never have to fire a gun. I really do. But, realistically, it'll happen sometime. Particularly if you're going into law enforcement," he looked at Daryl, "or if you're going on missions to rescue Sentinels from the bad spots of the world. I want you to have the knowledge so you can choose to use one or not," he looked to his own Guide and Ngama. "I'm not going to make you crack-shots today. I'm not even going to teach you to load a gun. For now, I just want you to start getting used to the idea of firing it."

"When do I get to teach you about fighting with improvised weaponry?" Blair asked, almost hiding his nervousness, but not quite, as he followed Jim into the shooting range.

"When the lessons starts and ends with something other than 'hit with whatever you pick up first,'" Jim smirked.

Daryl took one of the stalls and waited, knowing Jim would come with the gun for him to practice shooting. He stared down the long room at the paper target hanging at the end. _I can do this_ , he thought to himself. He was incredibly grateful that no one else was watching. If his father or Jessie or Race had been here, Daryl was certain he wouldn't have been able to keep from shaking. The fact that it was only Jim and two other people probably just about as nervous as he was made it easier somehow.

"Get your safety gear on." And then Jim was there beside him. "This is a little smaller than the standard firearm you'll get at the Academy someday," he said without preamble, "but it'll get you used to the idea and the kickback before we work our way up."

Daryl didn't know the name for the gun in his hands. Absently, he thought he should ask, but he couldn't quite bring himself to do it.

"It's okay," came Jim's voice. It wasn't particularly coaxing or comforting, but it was cool, professional, impersonal. Daryl found that helped – he didn't want to have Jim's sympathy right now. He wanted to get this done.

"Please show me," Daryl said, and his voice did not shake.

Jim helped him arrange his hands around the gun, and Daryl felt at once that it was both more and less comfortable than he had expected. _How can it feel like the most alien thing in the whole world to hold and yet seem to fit so well in my hands_?

He had a few minutes to get used to the sensation while Jim repeated the process with Blair and Ngama. And then it was time.

"Okay. Everybody ready? Ngama, turn your dials way down for a little while. When the light overhead goes green, take your first couple of shots."

Daryl had played paintball many times, had played arcade games and computer games, had horsed around with little plastic guns that fired darts and water and even ping-pong balls. But with a real, live gun in his hands, it wasn't anything like those had been. The emotional weight, the sheer feeling of mortality, was omnipresent.

Daryl fired.

He was startled at the recoil, but his stance caught most of the momentum and he managed not to hit himself in the nose.

Leveling the gun again, he fired a second round, controlling the recoil better. He tried just once more before the green light turned red. He set the gun down and pulled off his ear-covers so Jim wouldn't have to yell.

"Good start," Jim approved, walking along the three. "You've all got the steady hand and the respect for the weapon down. Now let's work on aim. I want you to focus on the target at the end. Empty your clips and see how well you can hit it."

Daryl felt his mouth, dry and strange, open to say something, but he couldn't think of any words that even made sense. Of course he needed to learn to do this. He was going to be a cop.

Jim glanced at him and then looked away but spoke quietly. "It's okay that you're uncomfortable. Even if you get comfortable holding a gun, you should never be comfortable planning to use it to hurt someone. You can't ever take it for granted."

Daryl nodded and turned back to his stall. The gun just sat there, cold and impersonal. And deadly.

_But if it came down to it, if it came down to shooting somebody or letting someone get hurt, or not protecting someone, I have to shoot. I have to_. He thought of Jessie and knew he could never let her down. She needed someone strong to watch her back, strong enough to stand beside her.

Daryl put his ear-protection back on and waited for Jim's signal.

By the time Jim's lesson ended, his three students were sore and somber. They trudged back to the lodge quietly, each caught in his own thoughts. But before they got away from him, Jim steered them towards the cafeteria. It was late morning, not quite lunchtime, and the cafeteria was a mostly quiet place.

Mostly.

"Look who's here!" Joel smiled brightly.

Two little forms started to scuttle across the floor at speed.

"Incoming!" Blair laughed. He reached down and swept Yasmin off the ground as she reached his feet. "Hi little darling!"

JJ, though several weeks younger than Yasmin, moved almost as fast, and started to clamber up Jim's legs. She babbled cheerfully at him in her own little language, which Blair always found fascinating because both children spoke a language that seemed as if it should be real, complete with a stable vocabulary and structure, but the inflection and sound choices were entirely of their own creation. Blair and Benton were fascinated watching their development: the multilingual nature of SELF might lend itself to the girls growing up with more than just one way of speaking their minds.

Jim was less comfortable with the little one than Blair, but he didn't fail to lift her into his arms when she so clearly wanted him to. "Are you being good girls for Joel?" he asked.

"They always are," Joel said, his smile so filled with peace and joy. It had done wonders for the man to be surrounded not only by friends who had trusted him at last, or even the Sentinels who respected him, but also these little children whose innocence and simple happiness filled a hole in his heart that nothing else ever had.

Joel spotted Ngama and Daryl both looking a little uncomfortable and recalled how they had spent their morning. He moved to them and put an arm around each. "Come on. Luka's got the hot chocolate all warmed up already, and I know where he keeps his special stash of marshmallows."

"I'll go," Jim volunteered. "If you can figure out how to disconnect this strange extra appendage I appear to have picked up."

Joel laughed – JJ had wrapped herself completely around Jim's neck. "Fair enough."

Still, he got the boys settled at a table to one side before liberating the happily chattering child and freeing Jim to duck into the kitchen.

"He really does like them," Blair said, bouncing Yasmin like an old hand. "He just doesn't know what to do with them."

"Neither did I," Joel admitted.

"No way," Daryl shook his head. "You're some kind of expert baby whisperer."

Joel laughed. "Glad you think so, but no. Before these two, the closest thing I got to a baby was you, and you were a teenager." He turned to JJ, who had settled against his chest and was singing to herself. "It's just...easy somehow."

"It is because you love them," came a voice and Emeline entered. "They can feel it. They have no father, no family, but they have you."

"They have all of SELF," Blair said softly, nuzzling Yasmin's dark hair; she was strongly taking after her mother's Egyptian heritage. "They do have a family, Emeline. Just...not a traditional one."

"A traditional family is not always as valuable as one like this," Ngama said softly.

Joel saw the heavy shadows in the young man's eyes and understood. Emeline seemed to see it as well, for she stepped forward to scoop JJ into her arms and start noisily kissing her cheeks to make her giggle. Blair started talking to Daryl about Yasmin's unusual vocabulary as they tried to piece together what exactly she was saying with such conviction. Joel, in the meantime, settled into a chair beside Ngama.

"I hope you know," he said, "you can talk to me any time. You can talk to any of us."

"I know," Ngama nodded. "But what is there to be said? My father is not proud of me. He is ashamed. He may be forever ashamed, wishing I were not his son."

"Your father," Joel said with passion, "may be the most brilliant doctor in the world besides Benton, but he's an _idiot_. Anyone should be proud to call you their son."

And he wrapped his arms around the young man. Joel didn't care that Ngama was legally an adult and a capable Sentinel and a good student and carried himself with a wisdom that surpassed that of half the cadets Joel had ever worked with in his career. Ngama was also far from home and alone in a world that, while probably better suited to him than the one he had known, was still quite different and unexpected. Ngama might be on the cusp of manhood, but he was still a boy where it counted.

As proof, Ngama leaned his head on Joel's broad shoulder gratefully. "Thank you," he said very softly.

"Don't ever be ashamed to ask one of us to be here for you," Joel told him. "We'll never turn you away."

Joel didn't need to be a Sentinel to feel the hitch of breath and sense the quickly blinked-away tears. But he didn't remark on it and let Ngama slide back to himself with a composed shake.

An instant later, Jim returned with a tray bearing several cups of hot chocolate. He met Joel's eyes knowingly but didn't mention what he had, of course, overheard.

And then Joel was caught up in keeping Yasmin busy so Blair could drink his own hot chocolate in peace, and as he laughed with her and told her what a smart and brave and wonderful girl she was, he swore that Yasmin and JJ and even the older ones like Melly and Angie and Ngama and Kaimi and the rest of the Chancery group would never be without love and pride from himself at the very least. And if he ever caught any Sentinel or anyone else at SELF making the kids feel as badly as Ngama did, well, Sentinel or otherwise, Joel would not stand for it.

Then Blair decided to find out if Yasmin and JJ liked marshmallows, the little ones that had soaked up some hot cocoa but were held out in a spoon to cool first. Yasmin, it turned out, adored them and immediately adapted the word "mababalala" to demand more. JJ, on the other hand, spat hers out with an expression of betrayal which left everyone laughing.

This was the scene when Kaimi walked in. "Hi everybody!" She moved unerringly to Ngama's side, seeing from the very slight strain in his face that he was troubled, and she put her hands on his shoulder. "The Chancery's all moved out for winter break. Where did we all get so much stuff, anyway?"

"I'm mostly interested in how you and Lai have so much stuff," Daryl told her with a grin. "Eric and me have an excuse – we're local. You came here with just one giant duffel-bag. How can you have half a car of stuff now?"

"Clearly I needed some of the finer things in life," she teased back. "Not just every movie I've ever seen and kept in my bedroom forever."

"Hey, we've been watching those movies!" Daryl protested.

"And in some cases, I do not know why," Ngama pointed out.

While the others laughed, Emeline leaned to Kaimi. "Did you find all the supplies?"

"Yep! Should be interesting!" Kaimi smiled.

In a development that had surprised no one, Kaimi had settled into SELF as if raised there, immediately finding little places where her upbeat personality and her keen interest in caring for people was needed. She and Emeline had inadvertently become something of the morale officers for SELF, both arguing for the need for the people who had made the lodge their home to have more than endless days of sensory drills and lessons and the like.

However, they had quickly learned that certain tasks were not exactly well-suited to Sentinels.

Emeline had begun by founding a music program, as she had been fond of both singing and playing instruments before her senses had caused her to be committed to an institution. Unfortunately, Sentinel hearing did not get along well with those who attempted and failed to make music. Even the jovial Dmitri was forced to beg that only those Sentinels who had already mastered singing on pitch and with good tone remain in the chorus, and Jim banned any playing of the violin or flute by anyone who wasn't already practiced in the art, at least when he was around.

Next, they had tried knitting. The task itself had proved popular as well as familiar to most of the women. But, while it also gave those Sentinels who took up the hobby a more relaxing activity where they could also make use of their sense of touch to set each stitch with acute precision, it also meant the lodge had rather more scarves and hats and gloves and sweaters and afghans than they knew what to do with after a few months of concentrated knitting. Benton had donated two massive boxes of the leftovers to local homeless shelters, but it was still only a partial solution.

This time, Emeline and Kaimi thought they might have a winner. Benton had opened up one of the greenhouses that was not in use for plants yet and the pair had remade it into an art studio. With natural light when possible and many, many lamps whenever it wasn't, the open space was perfect for painting or drawing. And, of course, Sentinel sight and touch again came in handy. It was discovered that certain Sentinels could produce works so intricate, so fine, they were like tapestries of woven color and motion.

So Emeline and Kaimi had arranged for the winter holiday to be a time where any who wished could display their work, either with their name attached or anonymously, after which many of the paintings would be hung around the lodge. There was also a growing market for trading knitted goods for paintings or promises of future works, and Kaimi expected many Sentinels would be exchanging hand-made gifts when they celebrated the holiday.

The lights of the room flickered in a rapid pattern, which echoed the sounds of a chime. Luka strode out from the kitchen and crossed his arms.

"This is no longer a café. If you wish to remain, you will help the others set out lunch."

"Uh, anybody remember what happened last time Jim helped set out lunch?" Blair grinned at his partner.

Luka scowled. "I amend my previous request. If any but Jim wish to remain, they will help set out lunch. You, Sentinel," he pointed with a long-handled fork, "will remove yourself before you disrupt my work."

"I must have missed that one," Daryl tipped his head.

"Jim was _very_ helpful," Kaimi was fighting a laugh, "but he sort of held up the line trying to get everything _just right_."

"You didn't," Joel looked disparagingly at his friend.

"I plead the fifth," Jim said with as much dignity as he could manage with the others giggling in his face. But he did rise from his place and abandon the room. All but Ngama followed – Ngama had volunteered to help in the kitchen one weekend a month when his schedule permitted. He soon found himself with his hands filled with heavy platters of steaming hot casseroles.

Out in the greatroom, Jessie waved them over to the big whiteboard that had taken over one whole wall. Originally it had been used to track classes and activities – as well as chores – throughout the lodge. However, sometime over the summer the board had taken on another role until everything written on it was nearly illegible from the multitude of tiny things crammed into too-small boxes. Jonny had forgotten to sleep one weekend and had programmed a basic scheduling system for SELF not unlike what the Rainier registrar used – this was displayed nearby on a computer panel and screen embedded in the wall that scrolled past the items of the day and week with reminders of upcoming events.

So the whiteboard had become purely dedicated to the ongoing argument that had, so far, defined several nights of fervent discussion: Which Sport Will Be On The Big TV Today?

It was an inevitable state of affairs that, with so many Sentinels from around the world, there would be a multitude of arguments about the giant greatroom TV and what it would display when. Every private room or suite or little bungalow had a TV, of course, and there were others throughout the lodge in other little spaces as well. But the huge screen was the place to be for the big sports that generated a crowd.

Jessie pulled a little against the wall, forcing the wheeled steps on which she perched a bit more to the left. One whole forearm was smeared with the ink of erasing whiteboard marker, and she had a piece of paper taped to her knee where she could glance at it.

"How exactly did you end up with this job?" Jim asked, watching her.

Jessie wrote one more word before pausing and looking down at her audience. Emeline and Joel had wandered off with the little ones, so she didn't worry about encouraging toddlers to try ladder-climbing before they'd mastered walking. "Combination of factors," she said, shrugging. "Nobody else wanted to."

"That's not quite true," Daryl said. "We had lots of volunteers, but they all had an existing bias. During the Epic Fall Meltdown, we held a vote and Jessie won."

"Don't remind me," Jessie groaned. "I actually thought there were going to be duels out in the garden over that one game."

Jim and Blair both coughed suddenly. In point of fact, there _had_ been a duel. But nobody had thought the kids should know that there were a few adults at SELF who had all the impulse control of a brainless sparrow.

The problem was that there was only one TV of this colossal size, more than a hundred regular inhabitants and visitors to the lodge, and amidst them, multiple competing sports loyalties that bordered on religious devotion. And it didn't help that almost all the sports had seasons that overlapped. Hockey, rugby, and American football started around the same time in the fall. Association and league football (what the Americans called soccer) depended on the region – some of it was in the summer, some in the fall, some in the spring, some in the heart of winter. Tennis and ping-pong were year-round. And then there were other things – racing, extreme sports, and things that weren't quite so worldwide like cricket, golf, basketball, and baseball – that varied wildly and unpredictably. The day in October when Jim and Blair and the rest of Major Crimes had wanted to watch the Cascade Jags play but found they were outvoted by the conclave of Russians who were invested in a particular hockey game, who were then outvoted by an even larger group who wanted to watch a UEFA football match had nearly resulted in bloodshed.

( _Had_ , in point of fact, resulted in a little bloodshed, but again, the adults all agreed the kids didn't need to know that the friendly brawling had resulted in a ferocious match in the boxing ring.)

"But, I thought you liked basketball?" Blair asked, watching Jessie carefully delineate which games would be televised at what time and how the rotation for fair use of the big TV was being allocated.

"I do," she said. "But the thing is that I like all of it."

"She's not kidding," Race appeared. "Name the sport and she's got a favorite team, a favorite player, and can rattle off whatever stats you want."

"Favorite football team," Jim challenged.

"American? I like college football best, so Ohio State. If you mean _football_ , as in soccer, though, I'm a Man United girl all the way."

"Hockey?" Kaimi asked.

"Buffalo Sabres."

"Rugby?" Blair challenged.

"New Zealand All Blacks, of course!"

"If you don't say Cascade Jaguars for basketball, you're walking back to the Chancery," Daryl threatened.

Jessie laughed. "Obviously!"

"That," Dmitri appeared, "is why we entrust this to her. She likes all equally, so she treats all fairly. And she ensures that games that are of particular interest to someone are recorded and available to be played later."

"Plus," Jessie finished off the last note and clambered down the ladder, "it actually helps out in other ways, too. When you know what sport will be on when, you can figure out your chores or classes and not get caught missing the game of the season or something. And we've all started eating together when we watch, so that opens up the cafeteria when it might otherwise get crowded."

"Didn't think we'd be seeing you until tomorrow," Jim looked at Race. In point of fact, the bodyguard still looked like he could use another day or two of sleep.

"Yeah, but there's some kind of high society function in town tonight that Benton needs to appear at, so I figured I should get up now or risk sleeping through it." He smiled ruefully. "The burden of being famous and rich is sometimes you have to show it off. It'll help him negotiate with the university and a handful of others if he's seen to be an active force in Cascade business politics."

"You have my sympathy," Jim said sincerely. He'd avoided becoming his father's heir, barely, and never regretted not being present for those long, dull evenings of finery and concealed competition.

"Oh! That reminds me!" Blair turned towards the stairs. "There was something in my email from Rainier but I didn't read anything other than the subject lines this morning. I should do that. Somebody save me some lunch, okay?"

Daryl agreed to stock up for him and edged into the cafeteria as the second chime sounded alerting the population of the lodge that lunch had been served. Within moments the area was swamped with Sentinels coming from all directions. Jessie darted ahead of the crush and caught up to Daryl in time to grab a plate for herself and help him navigate his and Blair's along the line of food on offer.

Blair hadn't come back downstairs by the time Jessie and Daryl were getting settled on the floor beside one of the couches so Jim opted to take his plate to him and headed upstairs. Ngama, done with his kitchen duties, turned up with Kaimi, and Jonny wandered over as well. They all clustered together, leaving most of the couches and chairs for others.

It always made Jessie smile a little bit. Technically, while she and Daryl didn't have any kind of standing in the Sentinel hierarchy, Jonny and Ngama and Kaimi had enough that they could have their pick of the seating and no one would so much as grumble. But they were also young and often busy as well, and so they left the best seats to those who would have been uncomfortable on the floor.

"What's on today, Ace?" Jonny asked, not even bothering to glance at the board when he knew she could rattle it off just as easily.

"First is a winter sports qualification for the Olympics," she answered. "Skiing, snowboarding, things like that. Then, in a little while, we'll have a big Original Six game – Maple Leafs versus Rangers. One nice thing about being on the West Coast is that we get the game way earlier, so it should be over by the time the Jags come on tonight."

Jonny shook his head and smiled. He liked watching sports okay, but he wasn't nearly as fulfilled by it as Jessie. She had been known to block off an entire day to camp out in front of the television with the variety of athletic competitions on offer, from morning until after midnight, and afterwards she was as relaxed and contented as if she had taken a vacation.

"Sounds good to me," Daryl said. Jessie smiled at him. _Good thing for me I've got a boyfriend who has learned to watch sports with me_!

Normally she would have to think about homework, but classes were over and their last papers had been submitted the day before. Now they were free with winter break to relax, and this was how Jessie intended to start.

Other Sentinels – their sports-watching buddies who were starting to form into a real group of friends in spite of their different countries of origin, ages, and Sentinel/Guide/not either status – began to settle around them. Meilin appeared with a huge bottle of homemade apple cider from the fall, and Antonio was becoming famous for his game-day treats. Jessie had also baked brownies during the morning, which she ran off to get during the first commercial break.

And the afternoon slipped away, lost in a haze of good-natured cheering and teasing and booing. When the Swedish moguls skier fell, everyone worried until he got up. When the German downhill racer started beating the Latvian underdog, the entire room started cheering against him, Melly showing up just long enough to chuck her hat at the screen and yell before stomping off to giggle. And during the hockey, those like Kaimi and Daryl who were less familiar with the sport got fifteen different perspectives on the rules or the plays from everyone else. Jessie got into a hot debate with Dmitri, himself a huge hockey fan, about a particular Russian player and whether or not he should be rotated to the second line. They lost themselves there for a while, muting or talking over commercials when not outright mocking them, telling stories of sports they played or games they had seen, sharing snacks and swapping bets. Daryl ended the hockey game owing two shifts of filing duty to Jonny for picking the wrong skiers, but he was ahead three days of Chancery chores against Kaimi for correctly guessing the hockey score.

As the Jags came on and many of the Sentinels wandered off – particularly those from Russia had yet to acquire an appreciation for basketball – Jessie leaned against her floor pillow and sighed happily.

"Good day?" Daryl asked her, slipping his hand into hers.

"Perfect," she smiled. "Just what we needed after that term."

Suddenly Kaimi looked around. "Jonny? Where's Hadji? I don't think I've seen him at all today."

"He was here this morning to meet the new Sentinels," Jonny answered. Then he frowned. "He said he had something to finish up for Rainier, but that's the last I heard of him."

"Isn't he here?" Jessie asked.

"No," Jonny shook his head. "I mean, he was. But…" He took on the slightly faraway look of a Sentinel stretching his senses. "I guess he must have taken the car and gone back?"

Jessie watched the emotions flit across Jonny's face. She'd known him too long for him to be able to hide anything from her. He was confused – not upset. If he'd had a bad feeling, either a gut reaction or something from his Sixth or Seventh, he wouldn't be so calm. And it was possible Hadji could be in trouble without Jonny knowing about it, but Jessie doubted it. In the months since his bout with Sentinel sickness, they had been closer than ever. There was just no way he wouldn't be able to tell, somehow, that his Guide needed him.

But Jonny was unsettled, so Jessie got a foot under her and stood. "Come on. Let's give him a call and find out what's up."

"Hold on," came Jim's voice.

Jessie turned, cognizant that someone had muted the TV and all the gathered Sentinels were watching as well. _I guess I shouldn't be surprised. They all protect Guides like they were their own. And we've only got five, so_ …

Jim was striding across the greatroom, Blair at his heels. "Hadji's fine, Jonny."

"Where is he? How do you know?" Jonny asked.

"Your Guide is as sneaky as mine, kid," Jim said with a fond grimace.

"Hey, I can't blame the guy," Blair said, shaking his head. "It's not in Hadji's nature to want to make his stuff public. Good or bad, he keeps it inside."

"Yeah, he does," Jessie said. "So why don't you tell us what he isn't sharing this time?"

"First, do you know where that thing Benton is at tonight is being held?"

Dmitri stood. "I do. Doctor Quest would never leave us without knowing his location."

"Good," Jim smiled. "Because we're going to go get him first."

Jonny and Jessie both stared at him and wondered if they should be alarmed.

Halfway across Cascade, Benton leaned to Race as though giving instructions or whispering a confidence.

"What does it say about me that I am wishing for some excitement?" he asked softly.

Race fought not to laugh, keeping his expression still. "It says you've been spending too long living on the edge and now the straight and narrow has become boring."

Benton glared mildly at him. "Don't kid yourself. You're right there with me."

"Sure, Doc," Race smiled. "But to be fair, I've _always_ thought this stuff was boring."

Benton laughed, tipping his head back and not caring if anybody thought his display was unseemly. This was exactly the sort of function Race had despised from the day he'd been assigned as a bodyguard, long before they'd cut ties with the government, before even they had become true friends. Of course, in those days, Race had sometimes been present not just to watch over Benton but to keep Jonny and later Hadji out of trouble as well. The boys had spent their share of time under tables and in coat rooms trying to entertain themselves – as often as not, their diversions had been better than whatever Benton was enduring.

"Battle stations," Race said very softly, drawing Benton back to the present.

He looked up to see a man he knew more by association and newspaper articles than anything else approaching. He looked slyly at Race but schooled his expression into something approaching professional.

"Doctor Quest, I am so pleased you could join us at the gala this evening," the man smiled, extending a hand. "I am William Ellison. I know you by reputation, of course."

"Mister Ellison," Benton shook his hand and smiled. "It's a pleasure. May I present Race Bannon, my long-time friend and associate?"

Race pumped the hand he was offered, and only his best friend knew the twinkle in his eye was Race wishing he had not been 'presented.' Then he could have ignored them and acted the part of the tough bodyguard instead of the polite 'associate.'

"Good to meet you," William said. "This is my son, Steven."

More handshakes all around, and Benton kept himself focused on the task at hand rather than letting the fact that Race appeared to be rapidly developing a case of the secret giggles distract him. Race Bannon was the only person who could get Benton to laugh no matter what, and usually it was something in his face that clearly said "I am laughing myself sick on the inside, and nobody will ever know it but you, and even you don't know why, but be sure I will tell you about it later."

"Ellison," Race said slowly, thoughtfully. "Are you related to the detective Jim Ellison?"

"Yes, he's my other son," William answered.

Race glanced at Benton. They had known that, of course, but they had been curious if the man would claim his son. Benton was starting to wish he'd talked to Jim about how he wanted his father handled. Now they'd have to wing it.

"We've interacted with him several times in an official capacity," Race said smoothly. "He's an exemplary officer."

Steven smiled, politely, but with warmth. "Yes, he is. We're very proud of him."

William Ellison shot the slightest look to Steven, and Benton felt his own smile cool. Steven might be proud, but clearly his father's opinion was one he was not willing to share in its entirety in company.

"I understand your own son is now attending Rainier?" William shifted the topic handily.

"Yes," Benton acknowledged, hating that he wasn't claiming Hadji as well. The boy was known for his association with the family, but it had always been prudent to keep his identity as son rather than an assistant or even servant (as some people assumed) secret for his own safety. "It's an excellent university. I've been very pleased to contribute financially to the institution."

"Yes, I had heard of your generosity," William said. "It came as something of a surprise to me, as did your founding of that new organization – something about sensory evaluation? I thought you were only interested in consulting?"

Benton shifted minutely – but it was enough to signal to Race that he was starting to feel trapped. "I have always dedicated my interest and my resources to causes as time permits. While I am still consulting on an as-needed basis for the federal government and a few other entities, I find that Jonny's presence in Cascade has made putting down a few roots here more attractive."

"Gotta have something to do while we're in town," Race said smoothly. "I understand you've done some consulting yourself, Mister Ellison? Both of you?"

"I'm on the board of several large corporations," William said with a lofty air. "And I am in the process of bringing my son up to speed to step into my place. Keep things in the family."

Benton and Race had played this game too many times in the last decade, and with some better players, not to see William Ellison starting to angle towards an opportunity to ask Benton for something – be it to consult officially, to "offer some advice," or even to join his company. Neither was particularly uncomfortable with the request – it was the question of what wasn't being said that had Benton on edge. He didn't mind talking about SELF to the right people, but he didn't yet know enough about William or Steven Ellison to know if they were the right people. And, tellingly, Jim hadn't indicated one way or another.

But they were saved by an unexpected interruption. "Speaking of family," Race looked up.

Jim Ellison himself was making his way through the crowd, standing out not only by his natural height but by his casual attire in a sea of tuxedos. The tall detective did not hesitate even when his eyes fell on his father and brother, but his face twisted very slightly.

"Jim?" Steven turned, clearly surprised. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm not here to socialize," he answered bluntly, but not coldly. In fact, he smiled at his brother. "Another time, maybe."

"Jimmy, it's good to see you," William said honestly, but his smile was short-lived. "If you'd wanted an invitation, you only needed to say something."

"Thanks dad, but I'm not here to stay." He turned to Benton and Race and frowned. "What's the point in having super advanced cell phone technology if you turn them off?"

"Not off," Race shook his head automatically. "Just muted for anything short of an emergency signal."

"Right," Jim rolled his eyes. "Which is why you ignored the message Blair sent you."

Steven spoke up. "Blair? Blair Sandburg? You guys are friends with Blair too?"

Jim looked at his brother and shrugged. "We're all friends."

"I thought you'd met 'professionally,'" William said shrewdly.

"You guys dance any longer, I'm going to go on without you," Jim said, suddenly comfortable as the dynamics at play were revealed to him. The four men before him all found other places to look and he chuckled. "Okay, guys. Short version – Benton and Race are friends with me and Blair. Dad, Stevie, there's stuff they can't tell you about, but it's okay. I'm fine with it."

"Seems we should have a conversation somewhere a little quieter sometime," William looked at Benton.

But Benton was not so easily won. "Maybe," he said lightly. _Even if your son has told you the truth about being a Sentinel, and even if your concern about SELF and my work here was to protect him, you're too well-connected and too public for me to let you too close. And Jim knows that_.

"So what's so all-fired important you crashed the Cascade Society for…Whatever It Is Gala?" Race asked, happily dropping any pretense at being interested in the evening's event.

"Somebody's been keeping secrets, Benton," Jim looked at him. "You want to be there when we point out how well that works around us. Trust me."

Race groaned. "It's not mine, is it?"

"Nope," Jim shook his head. "It's Hadji."

"Hadji? Keeping secrets?" Race's face was wide in false astonishment. "I'm _so_ surprised! The only person I've ever met more taciturn than that kid is _you_ , Jim."

Jim laughed. "Well, he got me this time, but Sandburg ferreted it out. And the big reveal is soon. You won't want to miss it."

"Good enough for me," Benton nodded. He turned back to Jim's family. "You'll have to excuse us."

"Go on," Steven said. "We'll make your apologies."

"But, Doctor Quest," William pressed, "I still think we should talk."

Benton looked at Race and Jim who both shrugged. He smiled. "I'm sure we'll meet again. I look forward to it. Have a good night."

In the lobby, Jim smirked at Benton. "You were pretty cold to my dad, Benton."

"Should I have been otherwise?" he asked, genuinely curious.

"No. Dad's…he's a good businessman. And he tries to do what he thinks is best. But…"

"Let me guess," Race interrupted. "He's not the world's biggest fan of your partner, or of what any of that means."

"Got it in one, Bannon."

"I hope you won't take it personally if I don't leap into whatever machinations your father is preparing, whether business or in some attempt to protect your secret," Benton said. "But…"

"Don't sweat it. If it's a problem, I'll talk to him. Or Stevie will. You could talk to my brother if you wanted, but...well. Anything you say to Steven gets back to my old man eventually." Jim sighed. "I try to visit them sometimes now. Sandburg's doing. But I can't _really_ talk to them. Not about…you know."

"Seems to be a common affliction," Race commented, catching sight of one of the unmarked SELF cars marked alongside their own, with Jonny in the passenger seat and Daryl, Jessie, and Ngama stuffed in the back.

"I hope you don't mind too much that I crashed the big party," Jim said with a wry smile as he opened the door.

"If you hadn't, I was going to need to call down a tactical exercise or something to stay awake," Race laughed. He tapped on the window next to Daryl. "Going my way?"

"Race! Dad! Did you know?" Jonny asked.

"Know what?" Benton asked.

"Clearly not," Ngama said with a smile of his own. "Honestly, I believe we are spoiling all that he has done to ensure this was not the result of his efforts."

"Maybe," Jessie said thoughtfully. "But, on the other hand, it's a really big deal. It really is. And if we don't celebrate it, maybe he won't realize how big a deal it is. Hadji never sees himself as particularly special. Our job is to remind him that he is."

"Exactly," Jonny nodded with a grin.

And so it was that, two hours later, when Hadji returned with Blair to the lodge after an impromptu philosophical discussion on the merit of reticence, he was met with a crowd of friends as well as most of the Sentinels of SELF cheering.

Because Angie and Melly in particular were fond of decorations, the greatroom had been strewn with streamers and a few balloons and a hastily-taped-together banner that read in big orange letters "Congratulations Guide Hadji, BA in Anthropology!"

"I...what...how...?"

"Hadji, you are the only guy I know who would _accidentally_ graduate from university and _not_ _tell anybody_!" Jonny cried out, catching his Guide in a laughing hug.

Hadji shook him self and glared at Blair. "You arranged this."

"I got an email from Eli Stoddard today," Blair explained. "He was just going over your transcript and realized that you had already amassed enough credits for your full degree as long as you had completed a final thesis. He wanted my opinion on that paper you did for me last spring as a special project and whether it should count. And I said it should."

"That is why he called me to his office in the afternoon for an interview with the registrar confirming the same," Hadji said, still blinking in surprise. "I...you wished to celebrate that I have completed my degree?"

"Just your first one," Jessie appeared. "We all know you'll probably get at least two more before Jonny and I get our first one."

"You broke Sandburg's record kid," Jim smiled. "A full bachelor's degree in just one year? Even your dad was impressed."

And Jonny finally released Hadji to face the man who had taken him in and given him a home. Benton's eyes were suspiciously wet as he gazed at his boys – his sons – united and bound in ways he could never have imagined.

"Hadji, I am so, so proud of you," Benton said. "And perhaps a bit surprised that none of us knew you were so close. But not _that_ surprised, my son. After all, I know how many credits of yours I have authorized over the years."

"Doctor Quest," Hadji said. Then he stopped and, heedless of the dozens of eyes and ears turned on him, used the familiar word that was normally never uttered but in privacy, "Father. I...I did not mean for my degree to be in Blair's field, but one of your own. I am at a loss to explain how it happened. This was why I did not share my news. I wished to answer your dedication to my education with a more appropriate field and..."

Benton laughed brightly and threw his arms around his son. "You have already surpassed any path I could ask you to follow of mine, Hadji. Now you must become whatever it is that your heart demands. I could not be prouder of you."

And throughout the crowd, similar hugs were taking place. Joel found his way to Ngama and got him under one arm and Kaimi under the other. The rest of Major Crimes had appeared, so Simon was there to pat his own son on the shoulder while Henri and Brian fondly hugged Melly and Angie. Eric and Lai had their arms around one another and Jonny while Jessie leaned happily against Race.

Suddenly another voice spoke. "The awarding of such a degree is a very high honor," Ivanna said, moving forward at a stately pace while the crowd parted for her.

Hadji turned in his father's grip to acknowledge her politely, but Benton kept right on hugging his son.

"Thank you, Ivanna," Hadji said politely.

"You have many years of study and work yet before you shall reach the scholarship of our own Professor Guide," she nodded to Blair who grinned cheekily. "But perhaps it is time we give you a proper title of your own."

Hadji opened his mouth to argue but was stopped by a squeeze from his father and a multitude of nodding heads.

"Where many of us come from, there is a position that is lower than that of a professor but above that of an assistant. This is where you stand for now, young eagle. So, just as we revere our Professor Guide Blair, now too we are blessed with you, Docent Guide Hadji."

This was met with a cheer.

The surprise gathering quickly degenerated into a full party, with music and some cobbled-together snacks and treats. Hadji was greeted by seemingly everyone, but he stayed closest to Jonny, whose smile held up his modest brother when he would have been overwhelmed by the pride and support. But when everyone had been by, the Chancery group took themselves off to a corner to celebrate together, cheerfully berating the only one of their number who could graduate without telling anyone about it and come back for more.

Blair sidled up to Jim.

"Thanks for helping organize all this. He deserves it."

"You know?" Jim smiled at his own Guide. "I think we all do. We all deserve to get celebrated once in a while. We're all remarkable. Except maybe Brown over there," he gestured to where Henri was showing off outrageously for Angie and Melly.

"You're right," Blair grinned back. "And today's as good a day as any to remember it." He held out the bottle of beer he had acquired for himself. "A toast."

"To what?" Jim asked, holding out his own bottle.

"To everyday miracles," Blair decided. "Because that's what it is. That's the life we live. And these people? This place? The fact that we're all here together to see it happening?" he gestured around the room. " _Definitely_ miracles."

"Amen, my brother," Jim said softly.


End file.
